Obsession
by Helaros
Summary: Draco has an obsession with Harry and Blaise Zabini pays for it. Slight slash.


Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine (except for Alexandria Lestrange). Reviews, as always, welcomed.  
Warnings: Slash, slight swearing.

**Obsession**

"I hate Potter," Draco growled.

Blaise Zabini sighed. "Yes Draco," he informed the other. "Most of us have got the message by now."

"I _really_ hate him though," Draco said. "If only there was some way…"

"If only you'd stop coming up with these idiotic plans that never work," Theodore Nott muttered from nearby Blaise, and Draco shot a glare at the taller boy.

"Need I remind you who's in control here Nott?" he hissed, and Theodore shrugged in surrender. When he thought Draco wasn't looking though, he sent Blaise an exasperated look, which Blaise replied to with a roll of his eyes.

"We need to get his reputation somehow…" said Draco.

"We've already tried that," Blaise said. "Remember fourth year – Rita Skeeter? Didn't work."

"It _nearly_ did," Draco said with a glare. "Got him for two years."

"But now he's back to being the golden boy, and we're no closer to getting any kind of revenge. Draco, give it up – you nearly failed your OWLs with your obsession of 'getting Potter'," Blaise said, and Draco flushed with the humiliation of that memory.

"Seriously Draco, someone would think you're a fag the way you constantly obsess over Potter," Theodore said with a smirk, and Alexandria Lestrange, from the year above pretended to swoon – which sent the whole of Slytherin house watching them into gales of laughter.

Draco didn't fly into his typical tantrum however, and instead a thoughtful look suffused his face. Blaise groaned at that expression – he was all too used to this foreboding the approach of another 'cunning' plan of Draco's.

"Lestrange, who do you think looks the most like a fag here?" Draco enquired bluntly of the older girl, and Blaise blinked in surprise, along with Theodore. He hadn't been expecting _that_.

"Apart from you?" Alexandria asked sweetly, sending the house into laughter again.

Draco nodded.

"Zabini."

Blaise looked up indignantly, glaring daggers at Alexandria – a look that promised much pain later. She looked unconcerned though, and Blaise vowed that she'd be getting her rewards very soon. 

Draco looked satisfied though, and gestured Blaise over. "Zabini, I have a plan…" he began.

Blaise swore.

* * *

"Potter, I'd like a word with you," Blaise said, forcing his voice to a neutral tone. If only Draco hadn't had those photos of him... He winced at the idea and tried to bring his thoughts back to Potter, who was regarding him with a very strange expression on his face. 

"I'm waiting," Potter said, and Blaise realized with a jolt that Potter must have asked some kind of question that he had missed.

"I-" he began, trying to inject a note of desperation into his voice. Years in Slytherin had honed his acting talents well. "I just… really need to talk to you. Please."

He sounded like a bloody Hufflepuff, he realized with some dismay. Nevertheless, the tone seemed to be working, for Potter nodded and glanced around. "Where?" he asked, and Blaise was glad to realise that Potter wasn't completely lacking in brains and so wouldn't demand in an obnoxiously Gryffindor way to talk right here and there.

He managed to look around in a creditably desperate way, and then dragged Potter off into a nearby-secluded corridor. He saw Draco following them out of the corner of his eye, and nodded briefly before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

When he had satisfied himself that they were alone, he turned back to Potter. He paced up and down slightly and then began speaking in a hurried way – as they'd rehearsed. "Potter… Harry," he said. "I…"

He could do this. He could do this. He would not think of the decidedly male person in front of him, and instead think of Lavender Brown, who despite being Gryffindor really did have an awesome set of…

Back to the matter at hand anyway. "I know you think I'm just a Slytherin, just like Malfoy, but… I…"

He took a deep breath and reassured himself that Potter was still there and wasn't running to the hills yet. He was going to kill Draco for this.

"I just want you to know that… I think… I think…" And then, with an internal grimace, he stepped forward as rehearsed and pulled Harry Potter into a kiss.

* * *

Blaise stood over a sink in the fifth year boys' toilets, washing his mouth out desperately. He had kissed Potter. He had kissed _Harry Potter_. He still felt sick. 

He heard Draco come in behind him and looked up with disgust plain on his face. "You are editing my face out of that," he told Draco flatly.

Draco shifted. 'Well, about that…" he begun, and Blaise sensed something was wrong.

"What, Draco?" he asked, and there was a cold edge of ice in his voice.

"Well you see, the camera didn't actually have any film in it," Draco said, faint splotches of pink appearing on his cheeks.

Blaise stared.

"Pansy had it last," he said shrugging elegantly. "But next time…"

"No," Blaise said in denial.

"Blaise…" Draco whined, and Blaise glared.

"I am _not_ kissing Potter again. Do it yourself," he snapped as he stormed out, and Draco sighed.

* * *

Harry Potter stared as Theodore Nott came up to him, embarrassment clear on his face. 

"Can I have a word with you Potter?" he ground out, and Harry wondered if all of Slytherin House was insane this week.


End file.
